


the other side of the road

by awkwardwritersyndrome



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Cunnilingus, Drinking, F/F, Infidelity, Minor Air Kids, Minor Tarrlok/Tenzin, Pregnant Sex, but it's hella deserved, girl you deserve to have your coochie ate, god bless lin beifong, tenzin slander, this is really just an ode to pema
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29524617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardwritersyndrome/pseuds/awkwardwritersyndrome
Summary: Time hadn’t changed Lin, but Pema was nothing of the girl that wedged herself between two old friends caught in a deteriorating relationship. She was only 21, freshly done with acolyte schooling, bright-eyed, and naïve. She was a kid involving herself in the business of adults.In which, Lin stays to protect Pema while Tenzin fights the Equalists, and the two women recount their muddied history.
Relationships: Lin Beifong/Pema
Comments: 15
Kudos: 59





	the other side of the road

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Crawl Into My Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767682) by [Lenticular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenticular/pseuds/Lenticular). 



“I know Tenzin asked you to stay, Lin, but please don’t feel obligated. The city needs you right now.” Something in Pema felt deeply guilty, even all these years later. The more Lin did to help keep the kids safe, the more the guilt surfaced, rising like a bloated body in a murky swamp.

Time hadn’t changed Lin, but Pema was nothing of the girl that wedged herself between two old friends caught in a deteriorating relationship. She was only 21, freshly done with acolyte schooling, bright-eyed, and naïve. She was a kid involving herself in the business of adults. 

But now she was a wife, which meant far less than she imagined a decade before, and a mother, which meant absolutely everything. She’d ridden that childish infatuation for Tenzin for years, until the tenebrous work of childbirth sullied her view of him. Her reverence for the Avatar’s son turned bitter as she became shackled to _his_ duty, _his_ honor, and _his_ legacy. 

Tenzin never stopped working or traveling, even as their family doubled in size. It was Pema toiling away with the midwives in the women’s dormitories, changing diapers in the dead of night, breastfeeding despite the pain, bathing the babies more often than herself. 

It took patience, the kind that comes with years of meditative training, to keep from resenting her husband. What precipitated instead was a generic, passive love. It sufficed, it kept them going, but it was hollow, full of nothing but air. Maybe that was the barren love they deserved; a selfish acolyte and the last living airbender trapped in a windy storm, pretending to be happy.

“Nonsense, Pema. I’m staying right here,” Lin replied. She sat a fresh mug of tea on the side table and pulled up a chair. Pema was loosely tucked under the covers, her three oldest piled in bed beside her, the youngest furiously kicking from within. She winced and rubbed her belly. “How much longer?” Lin asked, glancing down at the roundness.

“Supposedly another week, but I don’t think Baby will wait much longer. I can feel it, they’re coming early.” She made small circles with her hands until the kicking stopped, a welcomed respite at the late hour. Pema looked up at Lin, relieved and tired, and spotted a bit of curiosity behind thoughtful green eyes. “Are you okay? I know things at the station have been hard, and stepping down as Police Chief couldn’t have been an easy decision.”

Lin looked away as if her failures were made flesh and blood in front her, she hadn’t the strength to face it. A familiar scowl warped her expression, painful memories flooded the front of her mind, they seeped out as grunts between passive responses to Pema’s questions. “I’m fine, really.”

“I didn’t bring it up to upset you—”

“I know, so we can drop it.”

Pema had more compassionate fortitude than Lin, she prodded even as the walls rose up between them. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to feel vulnerable...sometimes.”

Lin huffed, rolled her eyes, and met Pema’s gaze, emerald and contemplative. She wondered if Tenzin ever saw that green hue and thought of their time together, the moments they spent studying each other’s faces and picturing a forever that never came. Pema’s eyes must remind him of that in some subtle way, or at least Lin hoped it did. It was a selfish wish. 

“I don’t have the luxury of letting my guard down,” she explained, the inflection of her voice waning into a jaded, flat sound. It was a truth she accepted many times over staring at the ceiling of her empty apartment.

Meelo began to mumble in his sleep, and suddenly they remembered they weren’t alone. “Maybe I should get them to bed,” Lin offered.

Pema nodded and shifted to get up.

“No, you stay. I’ll get them.” Lin squeezed between the bed and the window and scooped Ikki into one arm, Meelo into the other, and balanced them on her hips, sleepy heads nodding onto her shoulders. Pema hadn’t been able to lift Ikki in a year, and Meelo was quickly getting too heavy, yet Lin had them both perfectly secure, cradled against her solid body.

Pema watched Lin leave with leaden steps, and listened as the creaks of the floorboards faded away. For a short time, she was left with Jinora’s wheezy breaths and tired grumbles. Her oldest was the lightest sleeper, always had been, and would probably wake when lifted out of the covers. Even as a baby, the quietest disturbance woke her, including the distant opening and closing of doors in the men’s dormitory at all times of the night, and the hushed midnight phone calls that always followed council meetings. Jinora would cry so often that Pema thought she was sick, but it was simply her heightened airbender awareness and a pattern of surreptitious activities.

“Okay, you next big girl,” Pema cooed as she rubbed Jinora’s back, Lin’s footstep growing near again.

“Do I have to go,” Jinora groaned, yawning and wrinkling her nose.

“Yes, sweetie. You’ll sleep better in your room.” Pema kissed the crown of her head just before Lin swept her up. 

When Lin returned from Jinora’s room, she retook her seat next to the bed and unfolded a newspaper that had been lying on the nightstand. “Will they sleep through the night?”

“Meelo can be a bit unpredictable,” Pema explained, glancing out the door as if her son might reappear any second. “But the girls won’t be up until the morning.”

“Good,” Lin hummed, then skimmed through the paper to find an article worth reading. The stern ring in her voice was a lot like Tenzin’s — it was meant to sound definite, but it came out too soft, almost like a plea. The arch of her brow was familiar too — skeptical and intrigued. And the way she sat — with her back straight and chin high — was also reminiscent of him. They were parallels, and compliments. They were a set. Two people suited for each other except that they had too much in common. 

Pema stared until it hurt seeing all the ways Lin was like him, and meant for him, and broken by his absence. She stared until her heart broke, remembering every time she was forced to accept that her husband was not the man the world wanted him to be, that he had dark secrets. She stared.

A tear sprang from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek as she blinked. “I’m sorry, Lin,” she finally said.

The police chief looked up from her paper, immediately her face dropped with worry. “Pema, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

She shook her head, wiped her tear, and leaned her head back with an exhausted sigh. How to explain her turmoil? How to admit that tragedy befell the life that she stole from the woman across from her?

“You’re crying. Something must be wrong.” Lin stood and moved closer, placing her hand on Pema’s shoulder before sitting at the edge of the bed. “I’m not just here for the kids, I’m supposed to keep you in one piece too.”

Pema chuckled. _One piece._ She hadn’t been singular or whole in quite some time, a decade almost. “I was out of line back then. I shouldn’t have...imposed...while you and Tenzin were still dating.” The room got cold, the warmth of Lin’s nearby body evaporated.

“Hell,” Lin scoffed. She retracted her hand. Keeping Tenzin’s family safe was turning into more of a task than she bargained for. What good would come of revisiting all that drama after so long? Couldn’t it be laid to rest? “We all have blame to share. No need to rehash it now.”

“What blame could you possibly have?” Pema asked genuinely. 

Lin leaned over and rested her elbows on her knees, accepting defeat and her participation in the unwanted discussion. “I didn’t know how to be there for him when he needed me the most. We were doomed from the start.”

They were 18 and 19, reunited after Tenzin’s final leg of training at the Northern Air Temple, and Lin’s graduation from the police academy. Aang had been hinting about grandchildren the entire time he and Tenzin were traveling and studying. By the time they returned, Tenzin was distraught, he couldn’t even sleep. Everywhere he went, every woman he met, everything he did was about finding a wife so he could settle down.

After some time, it made a lot of sense for him to choose Lin. They were close and knew each other on an intimate level. Back then, there were no secrets, and already so much love between them. Tenzin knew Lin was a fierce ally and painfully honest when it mattered the most. And she appreciated his affection and consistency, especially as Su and Toph drifted away from her. When the world saw them as legacy’s pawns, they made each other feel important, like their individuality meant something.

But love and affection was not enough. There were things that Tenzin refused to address, parts of himself that he hid despite Lin’s earnest attempts to sow trust between them. The brutal compartmentalization worsened after she found out.

Rangjung was a wiry young man, darker and taller than Tenzin, and was known around the island as Goat because of his insatiable appetite. He would show up to meditation sessions late with bowls of rice and pouches full of dumplings. Tenzin always wondered how he remained so thin, admiring his lanky muscular arms, rippled abs, and prominent calves. Most impressive of all was Rangjung’s Air Nomad knowledge. He was incredibly well read and would teach Tenzin things that even Aang had forgotten to share. 

Tenzin thought to kiss him after one of their study sessions in the school hall. He just wanted to soothe his curiosity about the plump curve of Rangjung’s lip, to know the taste of him. Dreaming about it became impossible, so Tenzin closed his eyes and did it. Rangjung was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, a mixture of berries and sea salt, sapid and inviting like a swill of freedom. Surprisingly, Rangjung did not stop with a kiss, or a fevered embrace, or a hurried collapse to the prayer mats where they shed their robes and learned of the nomads’ most ancient practices of meditation. 

Lin showed up for dinner that evening, like she always did, and found the two young men in the throes of passion. She was more surprised by their risky location than the act itself. 

She heard a million apologies after that, and accepted every single one. Her love for Tenzin ran much deeper than he knew, deeper than his love of self. Honestly, she wasn’t upset. It was a relief to know for sure.

The trouble came when he asked her to keep his secret, to help him uphold his duty as the Avatar’s son, and she willfully agreed. Lin thought she was being a good friend, helping him overcome the weight bearing down on him. Instead, she was aiding in the genesis of Tenzin’s most exigent days. Lying to his family, _and himself,_ conjured a great darkness, a void made of self-loathing and apathy. Suddenly, their relationship was an endless cycle of petty disagreements. The unconditional love they shared, the very thing that made their secret possible, was dragging them into a well of resentment. They slowly drowned in the dishonesty like gasping fawns in a deep lake.

“It’s not my place to say what he was going through, but Tenzin needed someone to tell him he could be free, and I didn’t do that. I let him lie.” Lin’s face looked despondent, like she had drifted off to a distant place or time.

“You don’t have to say more than that. I— I know.”

Lin sat up, shocked. “You _know?”_

A crass laugh burst from Pema’s throat. She sat up straighter too, crossing her legs under her ballooned belly. “I may be a country girl, a measly ol’ acolyte, but I’m not dumb.”

“Is it— has he not been...discrete?” Lin asked cautiously.

“Oh no, my husband has been _very_ discrete. That’s how I found out.” Pema pulled open the side drawer and rummaged around until she found it, an empty oil vile. “When you’re cheating it’s best to keep your married sex life separate from your other indulgences. Tenzin must have gotten one type of oil for us and another type for...well, his concubine. I found this in his work clothes, it’s a totally different brand, myrrh instead of eucalyptus, barely anything left and we hardly ever…” her words trailed off.

It was seldom that she and Tenzin convened other than when they were ‘trying.’ Why would he have an empty bottle of oil in his pocket when he hadn’t been anywhere except City Hall? As Pema explained, twirling the bottle in her fingers, Lin studied it and thought she might have seen something similar in another councilman’s office. But she wasn’t sure. She opened her hand, asking to hold it.

It was a small bottle, and there were only a few drops dripping down the sides like viscous sap after sitting in Pema’s nightstand for too long. Lin knit her brow, thinking back to a meeting with Tarrlok early in her career as the chief. She was almost certain he had the same container sitting idly amongst his desk things. “Do you know who the other woman is?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a man, actually.”

Lin swallowed the lump choking her airway as the dots connected. Tenzin was having an affair with Tarrlok right under everyone’s noses. All their political debates, their late night meetings, and those odd glances between them, made much more sense with the context of infidelity. She didn’t think her friend was capable of as much, but knew better than to think it was impossible. 

“Pema, I’m so sorry. You— no one deserves to be lied to,” Lin said softly, taking the other woman’s hand, and giving it a comforting squeeze. She struggled to look her in the eyes. “I don’t want to lie to you, so I’m going to tell you...I think Tenzin’s… _other_ _person_ is...Tarrlok.”

The Water Tribesman’s name rang through Pema’s mind like the roar of a gong. It rattled around, vibrating letter-by-letter until her vision blurred to black. A blind rage engulfed her spirit — jaw clenched, finger tapping, hot tears welling in bloodshot eyes. She balled her fist into the comforter and threw the covers back.

Before Lin could register what was happening, Pema was storming down the hall. Her first worry was the phone — was Pema going to call Tenzin? Or even worse, the press? Her second worry was Pema’s condition, she was in no shape to be all worked up.

Lin pursued as quickly as she could, listening for pounding steps down the hall. She followed the noise to the kitchen and walked in just in time to see Pema place a stool in front of the cupboards, and make the short climb. The three steps gave her enough height to reach on top of the cabinet and feel around for something hidden, then she stepped down with a dull metal flask in hand. 

“Woah there, I don’t think you should be—”

Pema spun around, her tan robe and orange night clothes twirling in the gust of air, and shot Lin an icy glare. “Don’t tell me what I should be doing. This isn’t my first time at the jackalope rodeo.” She popped the lid to the flask and took a generous swig of whatever pungent liquor was inside. It must have burned because she slammed her eyes shut and grimaced. When the pain subsided, she tossed her head back and took another. “Bumi keeps this here for when he visits. It’s awful,” she coughed.

Lin walked over and took the flask, she couldn’t just watch anymore, though Pema looked stronger and more sure-minded than ever. Her flagrant disregard and anger was attractive, and her emotions swirled behind her pupils like a sage storm. Lin had to suppress a grin, she was impressed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to seem as though I knew best, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t recommended,” she noted, tapping the flask for emphasis.

Pema huffed and leaned against the counter with her arms folded. The kitchen was drafty and dark, her skin was goosebumped, and she could feel the twinge of her nipples hardening. It annoyed her that she wasn’t in control of her body — not in that moment, and not since she got pregnant for the first time. Pregnancy after pregnancy felt like a primitive servitude...or imprisonment. She was trapped by her maternal obligations to her offspring. Biology became her binds.

“A little fire water won’t hurt him,” she said of her unborn baby. 

“Him?” Lin repeated, a bit confused. She didn’t know gender could be determined before delivery.

“Just a hunch,” Pema replied with a shrug. The liquor was working quickly, she hadn’t eaten since the morning, and it was her first drink since acolyte school. “Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter to me, and Tenzin just wants an airbender.”

The presence of alcohol almost made Lin forget why Pema was upset to begin with, but his name renewed the topic. “I’m sure he just wants a healthy baby.”

“I’m sure I don’t give a fuck,” Pema panned. Her face got red and her eyes narrowed as they remained trained to a spot on the floor. The tipsy haze was setting in and undermining her usual veil of decorum. “Tarrlok...of all people.” All her encounters with the councilman began to replay in her head. “He’s conniving, conservative, devoid of compassion. How could Tenzin? How could he choose _him?”_

“What’s so bad about it? Is there someone you _wouldn’t mind_ him cheating with?” Lin asked half-jokingly, though Pema wasn’t in the mood to joke, not even a little. 

The shorter woman relaxed her face and gave real consideration to the preposterous question. While there wasn’t a true answer, she did think of someone she would be more accepting of if they were cheating with her husband. Her eyes scanned over Lin’s form in the shadowy moonlight spilling through the windows. The chief was unassuming in her baggy black sleep pants and tank top. The way her skin stretched over taut biceps almost looked angelic in the lunar gleam. 

“You,” Pema whispered, barely louder than the din of nocturnal noises outside the window. Lin’s gasp was just as quiet. “I could see why Tenzin would want to be with you. You’re strong, steadfast, funny, caring...I— that would make more sense to me than grimy Tarrlok.”

“He is grimy,” Lin conceded. It took another beat for the rest of Pema’s words to set in, for her to hear all the compliments. “Wait— uh, I don’t know if—”

She was cut off by an embarrassed, intoxicated shriek. “Forget I said anything. Sorry.”

The way Pema blushed made Lin smile. When was the last time she had that effect on someone? A decade? Longer? “Pema, please don’t apologize. I’m flattered.” 

“I still feel silly. Maybe that drink was a bad idea.” Pema looked around and noticed how loose she felt, her limbs were light, her mind was quieter. 

“Two shots and you’re done in? Hell of a lightweight. How about we get you back in bed.” Lin held her hand out to walk Pema back to the room. The younger woman padded to her and accepted the brace while she waddled. As they made their way down the hall, Pema let her head drop onto Lin’s shoulder. She was tall, not as tall as Tenzin, but still tall enough to make Pema feel protected.

Flopping back into the bed was a welcomed comfort. Lin lit a candle so she could turn off the ceiling light. The orange glow was peaceful, almost romantic. “It’s late. I should turn in,” she said.

“Pleaseeee don’t,” Pema begged, rolling onto her side to face the other woman. She patted the mattress invitingly, “stay with me.”

Bad ideas usually start off innocently, and that’s why Lin crawled into bed without much apprehension. Pema scooted back but her heavy center made it hard to retreat, they were still very close once Lin was laying down. 

“He used to love me, I think,” Pema blurted out in the awkward air between them.

“Me too. Life is cruel that way,” Lin said coolly, comfortable in her acceptance of loneliness. 

Her breast bobbed gently as she breathed in, and Pema noticed how heavy they looked before glancing down at her own swollen chest. She cursed her body, again. It yearned to be touched even though it was taboo to do so. Her state was seen as frail and sacred, not meant for indulging carnal desires. Still, every inch of her skin was doubly sensitive, and her sex dripped endlessly, and her heart thumped whenever she got intimately close to someone.

“Lin, do you think I’m pretty?” Pema asked, a note of desperation in her voice. A nervous pause followed while Lin thought of an answer.

It wasn’t that she didn’t think Pema was pretty, she found the woman to be gorgeous. But Lin didn’t know if she should open that door in her mind, the one that led to her own vault of secret inclinations. “You’re very pretty, Pema.”

“Then why doesn’t he look at me the way he used to? What changed? What did Tarrlok give him that I couldn’t?”

Lin didn’t have an answer for any of it. She was Tenzin’s friend, but his true self had been unavailable to her for too long. All she could do was speculate on what she thought his psyche might be like in his old age. 

“If I had to guess, I’d say Tarrlok gave him permission to be himself. Not Councilman Tenzin, not Aang’s son, not an airbender...just _him.”_

The room spun as Pema closed her eyes, listening to Lin’s words echo. The candlelight made for scary shadows behind her lids, silhouettes of monsters and dangerous men. “I would’ve done that if he had let me in, if he wasn’t such a fucking coward.”

Her aura of strength grew, the liquor was deep in her veins by then, and the truth was nigh. “What a dirty thing to do to someone who loves you. Four children... _four!_ I have become a vessel for him to fill with all his wants, and needs, and dreams. I don’t even know who I am other than his wife, the children’s mother, Misses Fucking Tenzin. 

“The one thing true about him is the one thing I couldn’t have. He kept it from me and gave it to someone else — gave it to _Tarrlok_ — as if he earned it. As if he’s sacrificed anything!” Pema flushed with anger, and tears stained her face despite her eyes remaining tightly shut. The more she said the more she hated what she was saying. How could he? _How could he?_

Lin stayed silent out of respect, but couldn’t help reaching out and wiping away the tears with her thumb. Her hand lingered, cupping Pema’s face and dampening as she continued to cry. “It’s not your fault, I promise.” She had told herself that same thing, over, and over, until it felt real. Hopefully it was believable now.

“You promise?” Pema cried, curling into Lin’s embrace.

“I promise.” Lin’s other hand snaked its way under Pema’s waist and pulled her closer until their fronts were touching. She hugged her. Held her. Kissed the soft hairs falling onto her face, the wet streaks on her cheeks, the corner of her mouth where her lips slanted into a frown. Each chaste brush of her lips was a plea — _don’t believe it, don’t let it shake you, don’t give up._

Pema took a few shaky breaths and opened her eyes. She was so close that all she could see was Lin’s lips. They were the warmest pink color, slightly parted, and so incredibly near. She tilted her head up and pulled one warm pink lip into her mouth, slow and timorous. 

Instead of resistance, Pema felt Lin drift forward, offering more of her lips and her tongue. What reason did either of them have to stop? Wasn’t this to be expected? The chickens were coming home to roost. 

An invisible, unknown force kept them locked in a wave of open mouthed kisses, falling into each other as if it was a well-practiced dance. Lin’s hand fell from Pema’s cheek to her neck, to her collarbone, to her breasts. Carefully, she kneaded the supple flesh while she licked past Pema’s lips and nipped at her tongue. The strangled moan that followed made her pause.

“Sorry, is that okay? Does it hurt?”

“No no, don’t stop,” Pema mumbled against Lin’s lips, desperate for more, wanting to forget. If she just kept doing _whatever_ it was they were doing, she didn’t have to think about Tenzin. The longer she let herself be taken, and the more willingly she gave herself away, the quicker she could forget how all her suspicions were so elegantly placated. She reached down and pressed Lin’s hands more firmly against her body. She wanted to feel...something, anything. 

Lin wordlessly complied, letting her hands wander, rough and curious. Every new mewl that escaped Pema’s lungs was swallowed, then echoed and rewarded. A strong hand grabbed around her thigh, pulling her leg until hooked over Lin’s hips, spreading her wide open. The thin cotton of her nightgown rode up as she rocked her hips forward in search of friction. 

“Can I?” Lin asked, her fingers caressing the curls between Pema’s legs. She wanted to be given permission, to hear an outright invitation. It was the least she could do after all sense of fidelity was taken against Pema’s will. 

“Please,” Pema prayed. She clasped her hands behind Lin’s neck and held her close so their foreheads touched, both tacky with sweat and heavy with lust. Her breath caught like cloth on a needle as two solid fingers slid between her folds. Light, playful tapping at her entrance made every muscle in her body twitch. Her walls shivered. Everything was molten heat, and her sex dripped with little provocation. 

It is one thing to lay with someone to start a family. It is another thing, entirely, to lay with someone to be set free. Exalted. Worshipped. Pema had never known the latter, but her body succumbed to Lin’s touch as if she had. 

Back and forth, Lin coasted between drenched lips until they ached from need. She unfolded a third finger and fanned them out, touching everywhere, making a mess of everything in her reach. 

“Sh— shit that’s so good. Don’t stop,” Pema managed to say between shallow breaths. 

Lin stretched her arm but couldn’t get what she wanted. She slipped out of Pema’s grasp, and her mouth mapped a path of kisses until she was eye level with a gravid stomach, and she layed one final kiss there. A gentle push turned Pema onto her back, and Lin helped her out her clothes. The loose gown was easily removed and discarded to the floor. 

The brisk night air made her shiver and an old reflex told Pema to fold her arms to cover up, she suddenly felt very shy. “I— you don’t have to...if you don’t want to...I know this isn’t very attractive.”

Her voice had a meek lilt, devoid of all the venom from earlier. It pained Lin to see such a beautiful sight and know the suffering that slept beneath the surface. She returned to her task, placing languid kisses down Pema’s center, muttering in between— 

“Nonsense.” She kissed her breasts. 

“You are stunning.” Then her sternum.

“This is divine.” Then her belly. 

Then again, and again, and again. The more Lin did to soothe Pema’s pain, the more she grappled with the knotted, repressed feelings in her own gut. Had years of ‘moving on’ done anything other than hide her sorrow? Or, was she talking to herself, convincing herself, searching for salvation inside of a woman scorned? She fought off the urge to weep and gave in to a deeper, more primal craving.

Lin gradually moved lower while massaging the inside of Pema’s thighs with the pads of her thumbs. When she felt Pema relax beneath her, she lowered her mouth even more, grazing a thrumming clit, drawing out a moan so deep and silken that it made Lin clench around nothing. 

The earthbender widened her jaw and set loose her tongue, and one moan turned into a cacophony as she laved in rhythm with the rapturous sounds. Lin’s nose brushed the soft skin of Pema’s stomach while she licked her apart, consuming her as she spilled across parted lips. One hand wandered to a bobbing breast and gingerly rolled a pert brown nipple, going only so far as to earn wanton hisses of pleasure. The other hand returned to Pema’s slit, but this time there was no toying, just the steady push of rugged digits filling her up.

The intensity of Lin’s tongue flicking across her nub, and the two fingers plunging into her depths, made Pema tremble like a faulty dam. All of her most repressed needs came flooding to her core, and a pressure grew that sent her head back into the pillows. She stared at the ceiling — Lin fucking into her, steady and persistent — and her vision became a white light. “Mmmm,” Pema whined. “Please, Lin, _please..._ I—”

_Want this,_ her hips said as they pushed up into Lin’s mouth.

_Thought of this,_ she secretly confessed with every shaky pant.

_Needed this,_ she selfishly thought, arching her back and clawing into the sheets. 

As Pema’s ecstasy welled inside of her, Lin snaked an arm under the curve of her spine, supporting her and the baby’s weight, letting her writhe. 

“Spirits, Lin...yes.”

The stars bore witness through shimmering glass panes. Candlelight danced over their bodies. Warmth rose from the bed like a tamed fire. Then Pema came, contorting herself under Lin’s touch, inside of Lin’s grasp, into Lin’s mouth. It was an ecstatic release, her dam bursting open, cum rushing down like streaming rapids. She cried out a name and it was not Tenzin’s. 

Slowly, the quivering stopped, and Pema found a way to regain her breath. Lin took her time easing out, leaving her mouth open and pressed lightly against Pema’s damp mound. She murmured apologizes into the sensitive flesh but the younger woman couldn’t hear; sounds were made of colors and the room was just an abstract idea.

Eventually, Lin crawled over Pema and hovered above her so their eyes met. Pema’s skin had a halcyon glow, and she looked into Lin’s eyes without shame or retreat. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry this wasn’t different,” Lin replied, then she let her body fall to Pema’s side, placed a hand on her naked belly, and aimlessly drew shapes around her navel. 

“Me too.”

The heat of their communion dissipated as the moon rose, so they pulled the covers up and slept. 

* * *

A thunderous boom shook the sleeping quarters and jostled the two women from their sleep. Everyone in the temple made their way outside in the gray light of morning. The whirring sirens from the city could be heard clear across the bay, but the roar of a standing airship drowned most of the noise out. 

Lin ran out into the yard and spotted the Equalist insignia on the ship. “Everyone, hide inside and remain calm.”

Pema cried out, a newly familiar sound to Lin’s ear. She spun around and tried to sound assertive, asking again for the other woman to be calm, but it wasn’t fear that inspired her wailing. 

On a day shrouded by ugly truths and pretty lies, with a revolution at the Air Temple’s doorstep, and thousands of lives facing imminent danger, Tenzin and Pema’s youngest was on the way. 

“The baby’s coming!”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I cannot say enough about Lenticular's CiMH and how that fic has possessed me, mind and body, for over a month now. I humbly submit this piece at the altar of Tarrzin and pray for less pain in the next update.
> 
> Thanks for reading yall!


End file.
